


You and I will share the weight

by bellofthetolppl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of fluff okay, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 03, Sharing a Bed, and being cute, it's basically just bell and clarke sleeping together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 11:04:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellofthetolppl/pseuds/bellofthetolppl
Summary: Just Bellamy and Clarke sharing a bed after season 3, their cute sleeping habits and them trying to heal each other.





	You and I will share the weight

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is a short fic I wrote recently. Hope you guys like it! Comments and kudos are much appreciated.
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr @jasperjoordan.

She is so soft when she pulls herself closer to his chest that he can feel his heart skip a beat. His hand hovers over her face, contemplating about whether or not he should touch her, cup her cheek, rub his thumb on the dark circles under her eyes, wish them away or kiss her forehead but he stops himself. 

It’s been only a month since they started doing this-sharing a bed because the nightmares were just so bad they couldn’t get any sleep.

And it wasn’t just the nightmares really.

It was the constant anxiety and sadness shattering them whole into tiny pieces that they had to put back together every time they spooned in bed. 

Bellamy’s bouncy leg and shaking hands wouldn’t be calmed down until her bony fingers wrapper around his and her own leg was thrown over his and Clarke’s thumping heart wouldn’t quiet down until he started drawing circles on her back and told stories about brave princesses in her ear. 

They were a mess when they were apart, around each other, they just calmed and everything flew like a soothing river going down a hill. 

But he couldn’t risk taking another step, he couldn’t jeopardize any of it, not when he knew her heart was still so fragile and shattered after Lexa. Not when his own was still mourning Gina. 

So he let his soul and his broken self enjoy this, as wrecked and as broken as it was, it was soft and sweet and it gave him that warm feeling inside that helped him push through another day.

She snored, just barely, it was adorable. 

Sometimes she’d talk in her sleep, mumble names of people long gone, people killed by her own hands and if he was awake and if he sensed it, he’d take her hand in his and hold it tight and wish all the dreams away. 

Sometimes he’d be successful in it and she’d keep on sleeping, snoring, moving the curls on his forehead with her breath which made him smile so stupidly, he probably looked like a damn fool.

But sometimes she’d still wake with a jolt and feel like she’s falling or drowning and he’d hold her close, sit up,pull his back to the bed board and drag her over him, holding her like a baby until she fell back asleep. 

Other times, he’d be the one waking up screaming his mother’s name or Octavia’s and she’d pull his head to her chest, drag her fingers through his curls and sing or hum a melody of songs he’s never heard before.

He loved her voice, it calmed him down instantly and before he knew it, he was asleep all over again.

Sometimes she’d be restless, hoarding the blankets and pelts he’s thrown over them, leave him out there on the damn, almost broken bed lying half naked and cold. 

He’d try to pull them back again but she’d never let go so he simply got up and put more woods in the fire thinking this way she’d get warm enough and let her strong grip loosen and he’d be able to pull at least one of the blankets away but he was proven wrong on the first time he tried it.

Clarke loved being warm. She wouldn’t even sweat, no matter how hot it got in the room. 

She hated that he slept with the socks on and when he tried to explain it’s because of her blanket hoarding, she simply groaned and turned her back on him.

“Just take another one.”

So he did. He dragged another blanket from the closet, an orange one and woke up an hour later with her snuggling under it and two others while being dressed in a t-shirt and sweater.

He gave up then and he got used to sleeping more or less without anything covering him.

On occasions, she woke up and found him sleeping on his side, curled up like a ball, his arms enveloped over him and she’d feel bad, so she’d unwrap herself from her cocoon and basically cover his body with hers and all the blankets that came with her until he relaxed under her sweet soft weight and even rolled on his stomach.

He snored only when he was sick and she hated it because he made fun of her doing it every night but when he was sick, he was adorable and she melted at the sight of him. 

He couldn’t take his breath and his lungs rumpled like a freight train, which scared her at first but once he was through the worst of it, she’d stay awake sometimes and watch the cute mess that he was. 

He’d bury his drooling nose in the pillow, make a wet ugly yellow mess out of it or he’d cough and wake himself up,look around like a lost child before she shushed him, stroke his head and told him to go back to sleep, which of course he did. 

He was infuriating too.

Mostly when he was a caring idiot but pretended to be a selfish ass. 

Yes, that was still a thing, even after almost two years on the ground. He pretended that he was just casually strolling by medbay with two plates full of food for her and a couple of apples for her “afternoon breakfast” to which she scoffed and said she wasn’t five.

And he still went around camp, giving kids his own blankets away or finding jackets out of nowhere or sewing up their broken pants or shirts or even Miller’s beanie and he did all those stuff when no one was looking. 

At nighttime or early in the morning when they were still sleeping, he’d sneak while they were doing something else, snatch a cloth that needed mending and fixed it before they even knew it was missing. 

It’s like he didn’t want anyone to know, as if he was ashamed of it, of himself, of his big heart that had taken them all in and refused to ever let them go.

But she knew. She noticed and she always smiled and even teared up.

One night when he had come home long after his shift had ended, she had assumed he might’ve done something else, fooled around with someone, sneaked a kiss or spent some time in someone else’s tent but when he lay down next to her, he smelled of fire and burnt meat.

“Where were you?” she asks under her pile of blankets.

“I had a guard shift.” 

“That ended an hour ago, so where were you?” she sneaked a glance at him and he looked away sheepishly “Is there a problem?”

“No Jackie and Ollie were just hungry” he states and things that’d be the end of the conversation but she probs for more. 

Jackie and Ollie were some of the youngsters, just twelve and thirteen years old and they beamed every time they saw Bellamy around camp, jumping over him and rushing to tell them about something they saw or something they did.

“So?”

“Well the mess hall was closed.”

“I still don’t see where you’re going with this Bellamy.” she rolled on her back almost fully awake now.

“I cooked them some stew and veggies” he shrugs and buries his head in the pillow, hiding half of it away from her and closing his eyes so she would stop poking around.

She wouldn’t, though.

“You finished your shift, your long, tiring, winter time shift, and instead of coming home you went out of your way to cook two kids a whole meal?”

“It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Right.”

“Mhm.” he murmurs, already almost falling, he truly was tired and he seemed to be freezing so she spared one of her blankets and covered his shoulders, hoping she won’t steal it later.

“Bellamy, when will you stop with this?”

“With what?” he opens up one eye, furrowing his eyebrow at her in confusion.

“You do so much for these kids, would it hurt to actually admit it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he closes his eyes again. Of course he does.

“Yes you do. Take some credit for the hard work you’re doing.”

“Look who’s talking.” he scoffs back “You spend day and night working in medbay or fighting with the other counselors for them, yet I don’t see you ever admitting how great you are at it.”

“That’s not true.”

“Right. And I’m the chancellor.”

“You are?” that earns her a playful slap on the shoulder.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I won’t go around camp and parade about giving two kids some food. It’s not who I am.”

“I know” she cups his cheek and the gesture makes him open his eyes. “And that’s one of the many reasons you and I work so well, but it won’t hurt to stop constantly pulling yourself down for everything and let yourself feel good about doing good.”

“I’ll start when you do, princess.” he smiles and leans further into her touch.

“Deal.”

He falls easily after that but she stays awake for a few more minutes watching him, thinking of how stupid and sweet and idiotic and selfless and kind he is and how her heart flutters at the sight of his sleepy self.

Then she leans to his chest and breathes him in before she drifts off as well and wakes up hours later to his quiet cursing, pulling at the blankets tightly wrapped around her.


End file.
